From the beginning of our time together my wife and I were hand me down kids. If we could use it, and it was offered, we took it. Beds, tables, washing machines, all got second chances in our house.

About a month back I ran into a rock. A flying rock. A rock of indeterminate size. It whacked my windshield. At home, I looked for a sign of impact. Found none.

Ate Ramen noodles for the first time last night. Unsure about the nutritional value, but they were tasty. On the recommendation of a friend, I used the beef.

Went to bed at my normal hour. 9:30. Woke at 12:30, worried I’d never get back to sleep. Got a drink of water. Read a bit of a book. Fell into a sleep so deep that I dreamed.

The sweet smell of rain is hanging in the cool air this morning. The grass sparkles with dew. Everything looks soft and alive. Makes me miss the Gulf Coast where moisture is in the air every day.

It rained yesterday and I forgot it was my anniversary. No penalty to pay for either event. The gauge this morning shows a little bit more than .3 inches fell, and my wife passed away in 2020.

I’ve probably written about hugs before, but I’m going to do it again. Met with a group of friends last night to cook dinner and there were hugs all around, coming and going. It’s a huggy crowd, and I love it. It’s the magic of the human touch.

We buried a mother, a daughter, a friend yesterday, Sky Jones Lewey. Figuratively and literally.

Here we are. A new day. The sun lit the morning clouds in a spectacular fashion. That’s done. The day is started. Not much on the agenda. Plans are in hand for the trip to Uvalde tomorrow for the funeral of our friend, Sky.

Another friend has ceased to be. Now, rather than drive to a birthday party in Houston this weekend, I’ll drive to a funeral in Uvalde.

I enjoy watching the slow progression of life across my land. Yesterday I stood on the porch, leaning against a cedar pole, and looked at the flame leaf sumac with all the new sprouts popping up. I felt good.

Watched the lunar eclipse last night. Shared the experience with a friend via text and my son who came out on the porch just as the eclipse hit totality. It’s nice having people in your life with whom you can share the beauty of an eclipse.

I had a dream last night. It featured my wife. It was a short. She showed up at an event of an indeterminate nature. I asked how in the world she got there, since I thought she was in a memory care facility.

I got a call yesterday. It was Matt from Strait Music. A guitar I wanted to check out had arrived. I’d forgotten all about it. Because the interest in the guitar was expressed in September of 2020.

I’m going to talk about the pattern I’ve seen as I dealt with my wife’s death in August 2020 and how it came about. This isn’t a road map. This is my journey.

Life is full of patterns that are self-similar across different scales.

I did it again, found another memory cloud. This one was on purpose. I was killing time yesterday in preparation for my granddaughter’s area track meet.

I ran into a memory cloud yesterday. There was a brief pang of loss followed by a small pulse of tears.

I’m away from home. I miss my home. Why? The routine. I get up in the morning. I fix my coffee. I feed the cats. I write. I eat breakfast. I tour the yard and then the day starts. When I’m away from home I have to run my routine in the empty spaces of my hosts lives.

Last year, on a trip to Marathon, I got a ticket for going too fast in a school zone. I took defensive driving.  I learned something doing it.